Spinning Plates

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Sometimes constant exertion is all we know.

Sometimes this performance is a behaviour we learned; to be productive is to be valuable and accepted and acceptable.

We spin the parenting plate. The emotional plate. The work plate. The "remember the appointment" plate. The "stay regulated for everyone else" plate.

Sometimes we add a new plate, something beautiful or brave, like starting a new project or helping someone we care about. Other times we’re handed a plate we didn’t ask for such as grief, loss, worry, unexpected change and we don’t know where to put it and don't always have the desire or wish to deal with it , so we add it to the illusion we are in control and spin this plate with all the others.

One particular day, I was talking with a neighbour, listing all the things I had going on. I wasn’t complaining exactly, just offloading. They paused, tilted their head and said gently, “Do you ever wonder why you keep spinning that one?”

It stopped me in my tracks.

Because I’d never asked that. I was so busy trying not to drop anything, I hadn’t thought to question whether some plates could be… put down.

Not smashed or abandoned, but lovingly rested. Shelved for now. Perhaps held by someone else. Or even spun more slowly, on a smaller stick, at a pace that doesn’t leave me dizzy.

Some of us, especially those who are neurodivergent, highly attuned, or living in a caregiving role become master plate-spinners out of necessity and habit. Survival taught us to anticipate every crash, every mess. But survival mode doesn’t always let us rest. It tells us we can’t stop. That one still plate equals failure.

But it doesn’t.

What if stillness was a skill too?

What if letting one plate slow down was a form of wisdom, not weakness?

What if the person you’re becoming is not the one who spins more plates… but the one who decides which ones truly matter?

A Reflection Prompt:

Which plates are you still spinning out of fear, habit, or guilt?

Which ones actually feed your joy, your healing, your purpose?

What might it feel like to gently… rest one?

Your nervous system doesn’t need you to do more. It needs you to feel safe.

And sometimes, the bravest thing we can do is stop spinning long enough to listen.

Do you want to talk through your plates with someone who gets it?

Let’s connect.

You don’t have to do it all. You don’t have to do it alone.

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